


Shower Tryst // Wildcard -- Day 7 Prompt

by KristleTribble



Series: Hetalia Valentine's Event - 2020 [3]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Worship, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fluff and Smut, Foreign Language, Frottage, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Morning Wood, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Romantic Gestures, Rough Kissing, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KristleTribble/pseuds/KristleTribble
Summary: Willem and Sigurd have been in a steady relationship for half a year now. The Dutchman decides he's going to surprise his love with a little gift, but it seems the Norwegian has something for him in return!
Relationships: Netherlands/Norway (Hetalia)
Series: Hetalia Valentine's Event - 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620070
Kudos: 6





	Shower Tryst // Wildcard -- Day 7 Prompt

Willem closed the door to his house and sighed, leaning against the wood for a moment to simply catch his breath. Running in the rain left him breathless, the scar of his forehead hidden under the drippings of his soaked hair. Which was normally spiky. And now was a bit disappointing to look at.

He set his keys in the usual dish by the shoe rack, wondering if his boyfriend had woken up yet. Sigurd was a late sleeper sometimes, he knew, the Norwegian being the sort to find much comfort in the warm bed sheets and what-not.

Willem had left earlier that morning to go buy some flowers, a little surprise for his love, seeing as their 6-month anniversary was today.

In today's world, 6 months is either a proper accomplishment of both parties, or mysterious luck.

Willem hoped it was the former, having worked on his communication with Sigurd and finding improvement in the more recent months.

He settled the flowers in an empty vase on the two-chair table of the dining room, quietly fetching some warm water for the pleasant-smelling tulips and mountain heather.

He took a moment to shuck off his sopping cold jacket, the tall Dutchman hanging it on a peg near the front door, before stepping into the bathroom for a shower. Just a quick one, and hopefully he could get himself looking more plussed up before his man drew out of sleep.

Willem removed and neatly folded each of his articles, first a cardigan, then an undershirt. His green eyes glanced up into the mirror and let his own reflection, subtly calling up many different memories, of those that he shared with Sig -- and those without -- peer back at him.

The Dutchman quietly traced the scar on his face with a hum, and looked a little more closely to see if he had shaved well earlier that morning, before finally dressing down to his birthday suit and clambering into the shower.

The chill water hit his damp body with a sting, instantly causing the man to shiver involuntarily. Too cold. Willem turned the handle to encourage more warm water from the shower-head, carding his hands languidly through the auburn mass atop his head.

He stood for a long moment or two, relaxing against the wall and letting the trickling water, battering yet soothing, rain against his tight skin.

The glass doors had fogged up easily, even with the running fan...

And my, was Willem in for a surprise, as pale slender arms almost spontaneously danced around his waist, before a mass drew close up behind.

The Dutchman knew who it was, didn't have to look, his skin felt cool.

"...Sigurd…"

The Norwegian's nose nuzzled into Willem's shoulder blade, drawing kisses along the protrusion there. Tantalizing and wordless. Painting pictures by the lips, as the sliding door was drawn noiselessly closed again.

Willem smiled almost unnoticeably, nimble hands moving slowly up to mirror those of his lover, wrapped in a torus around narrow hips. He felt the water sliding over the both of them almost timelessly.

The shorter of the two drew his hands farther down Willem's body, teasing at some hair beneath the belly button, before resting on the thighs suggestively. More kisses drawn along his man's spine.

The Dutchman shivered in secret delight, and pressed his hands over the slick ceramic tile wall in front of them.

"Will..." Sigurd's voice whispered humidly, "Missed you..." Blond hair dripping against the base of Willem's neck.

The Dutchman hummed at that, a mild chuckle escaping from his throat. "That soon  _ schatje _ ?...mm…." His mouth let out a long breath as he felt Sigurd press against him. "Was only…..gone an hour…"

The Norwegian had begun to roll his hips up into Willem, an incredible gesture of nonverbal neediness, damp and warm. "Too long ...missed … _ vil ha deg _ ."

Willem let out a low sigh as Sigurd pressed him into the wall, feeling a bit warmer and definitely  _ aroused _ at this point. "Mmmm….. Sig…."

Sigurd smirked as he teased himself against the sculpted contour above his boyfriend's thighs, slick with shower water. He knew just how much he could make Willem come undone.

The blond pressed his hands into Willem's thighs, grinding up in unstable intervals as they stood pressed to the wall. At some point, Willem's low stuttering breath whirred into a creaky moan, spurring the Dutchman to turn himself around and capture Sigurd's mouth in his. Hot breath on hot breath, the water cascading over like mountain falls. Willem's arm bumped up against the handle and the water went a little warmer.

A slightly explicit hum erupted from Sigurd's throat as their tongues met, brushing electricity like artist's lightning on a soaked black canvas, starving for warmth and color and everything that made life what it was -- each other.

The wet heat of Sigurd's mouth made Willem feel dizzy, letting his hands wander over the Norwegian's chest, squeezing and rubbing without much effort needed. His boyfriend sucked in a loopy, shallow gasp as Willem teased at a bud, before pressing back against Willem.

Sigurd sent himself on the offensive and rolled his hips forward, a slow heated love bite to the side of the Dutchman's neck.

"Mm...hope you know...what...you're doing…" Willem murmured, hand fisting itself almost possessively in Sigurd's drenched hair. His other hand held Sig closer by the buttocks, gently squeezing and feeling at the shape there.

The blond's breath ghosted along the outline of Willem's collarbone, suckling at the skin here, there, moving on to other places, going right over the jugular and nipping slightly with the teeth there.

"...I know fully well…" the Norwegian almost purred airily, face red with a hot flush.

Their hips jerked against each other almost involuntarily, sending waves of pleasure throughout Willem's body, wet skin on wet skin, eyes closed and simply using all else to guide his motions. A small moan, almost inaudible, snuck from Willem's mouth, as Sigurd felt at his man's backside, giving a squeeze of his own to the tender and taut flesh.

The Norwegian opened his eyes lustfully, taking in the sight of his unraveling boyfriend pressed up on the shower wall, body drenched and open and utterly  _ delicious _ . It would be truthful to say that Sigurd was being rendered very bold by the sights, the sounds and smells, even the friction of their damp bodies in the humid air.

This was much better than dealing with morning wood alone in bed, by far!

A pale hand dragged itself from Willem's cheekbone, sliding down tantalizingly over the neck, the collarbone, over a nipple (Sigurd pressed a thumb in and got a groan as a reward), slowly winding down the Dutchman's abs with purpose.

Willem's breathing came out ragged, the taller looking down with darkened eyes and wishing that hand was planted on his girth already, so close to practically  _ begging for it _ .

But Sigurd was a tease (this is true!), and it was a natural part of his behavior to draw things out and savor them. He would try to push Willem farther.

The Norwegian coyly smirked up at his boyfriend, wet hair threatening to collapse his bangs, before cupping a cheek in his hand and slipping a slim finger just inside of Willem's rectum.

And the Dutchman, well, he had never really experienced the wonder of being a bottom before, and this among many things was new, Sigurd being so needy like this, and he was more than willing to help satiate that lust.

Will let out a loud sigh as Sigurd teased at the hole, stretching and filling in a second finger, nails scraping slightly upon the innards. "Feels...hngg… weird…" he murmured, head moving back to rest against the ceramic tiling.

Sigurd smiled sweetly and pressed a kiss to Willem's outstretched neck, tasting at the skin. "Can take it easy. Promise." His free hand held his boyfriend's waist reverently, the other taking Willem's hand in it. "Turn 'round,  _ kjaere _ ."

The Dutchman looked down at Sigurd lovingly, and pressed his slightly swollen lips to the other's forehead, before grunting in assent, and turning his stomach against the wall, and resting some of his weight on a handlebar.

Willem wasn't sure what Sigurd was going to do, but ... he trusted his love.

So that was what this was turning into, the Dutchman internally mused, feeling the chill ceramic against his forehead, feeling the rivulets of heated water sliding pleasantly on his bowed back, as he gave way to Sigurd's leads and touches.

A trust exercise, how fitting for an anniversary present.

Sigurd ran his hands along the length of Willem's defined back, motioning over the prominent bumps on his spine like the way one runs their hands over wet rocks in a stream. The Norwegian bent over and pressed kisses to the skin, drops and minuscule pools of water, feeling at them like a forest walk, when leaves turn up dew for his fingers.

All the surface area and inside of the Dutchman's body, it was addressed and treasured by Sigurd in his mind, gently working his fingers, stretching…

Willem simply breathed out and concentrated on the feeling of Sigurd's slim hands working into him -- somewhat rough with the water. He wanted to relax, but….

"Mm...Sig…" He turned to look behind him, catching the other's sight in an enamored gaze. "Less fric...tion…" Willem shuddered as Sigurd slipped his ring finger in, shoulders tensing and breath sucking in when the muscle finally found significant resistance.

His boyfriend was all happy to comply, kissing Will's bicep and reaching up for the body soap. " _ Alt skal bli okej, _ " he whispered soothingly. Nothing could be more natural for Sig than his interest in Willem's comfort, taking the time to remind himself that this was a first.

A first for the both of them.

Willem waited patiently as his man lathered up some soap in his pale hands, closing his eyes and listening to the background hum of the fan and the trickling shower drain. Steady breathing, feeling warm air sucked into his lungs and letting it reside there with purpose.

Sig placed one hand on Willem's hip as a forewarning, before returning to his motions as before, soaped fingers sliding now threesome into the tightness of the Dutchman.

It was a pleasant sensation compared to before, Will mused again, and he never expected this whole situation out of Sigurd. He thought it was amazing, in a way, that there would always be new things to learn about the current owner of his entire  _ soul _ .

His thoughts were snapped away when Sigurd's slim fingers finally probed at that significant organ, Willem involuntarily bucking his hips backwards and letting a long moan fall from his tongue at the sudden fire in his groin. "...nn, fuck….!"

The Norwegian instantly froze, eyes wide and breath hitched and ears trained  _ completely _ on the sounds he was hearing. " _ Herregud _ ," he uttered under his breath, both infatuated and amazed by how quickly his own arousal was growing.

Willem looked back, blinking away the water in his eyelashes to try and see Sigurd's expression. He wiped away at his eyes with a hand and sighed out with an accidental hum. " _ Mijn engel, _ " his voice whispered out, cracking on the last syllable.

Sigurd felt like his heart was doing flips and turns in his throat, an immense font of warm emotion coming to his mind. Will, beneath him, and looking back in such an imploring, needy, but yet so utterly  _ loving _ way.

As they maintained their eye contact, water still streaming down them both, Sigurd reached down to his own member, feeling the slick lather of soap on his body now. His breath hitched again as he dragged a thumb achingly slow across the head, and again, and again, the motion feeding itself, the feeling of utter desire and want beginning to cloud Sigurd's normal awareness of anything else but the two of them,  _ here. _

Willem drank in the sight of his boyfriend teasing himself with an especially potent sense of longing, wondering how that would feel inside of him, breathing shallower as he realized his own face felt hot and flushed.

Willem was in rapture.

Blond hair on pink cheeks, a reddened stately nose, and dark eyes that smoldered with such an -- almost -- unbearable amount of confidence….!

" _ Oh mijn god, jij bent zo mooi _ ," Willem exhaled, the statement being an absolute truth in his soul.

Sigurd groaned lowly at the praise on his ears, the sound of the foreign but beloved language passing sweetly into his thoughts, pressing his hand onto one of Willem's taut buttocks.

The Dutchman stood up with a twitching turn and pulled Sigurd close to his skin, the nerves of them both crawling with sensations and electric touches. One singular broad hand reached down to guide his cock against the other's, pressing their mouths together with impetus, drive, a tightly kept but nonetheless gluttonous want.

Sigurd's breath stuttered sharply and somersaulted at the semi-slickness of their members rubbing each other, a low moan reverberating off of the shower walls. " _ F-fy faen, hnn… _ " His head tipped back slightly, bangs falling, dripping, over his nose, then back forward again as Willem continued to tenderize their lips, slipping inside each other's mouths in an almost competitive way.

Willem's tongue clashed with Sigurd's with a clink, a pop, a slide, mouths tooth to tooth and lip to lip and cluttered with spit and breath and --

Sigurd moaned weakly as Willem's hand palmed his cock suddenly, face flushed intimately with an unprecedented feeling of submission. He gazed with hooded eyes up into Willem's darkened green ones.

Willem's fingers pressed at the firm organ again, the white lather of soap already washed away but he just didn't care about that at the moment. Dragging a finger across the head languidly, pressing in slightly there, pleasuring his boyfriend for the briefest of moments. Breath low, and humid, and charged with force threatening to break loose.

The Norwegian almost buckled at the knees from how weak Will was making him, hands shooting up to plant on the taller's shoulders for support. "A-A-Ahhh…." Sigurd's head fell forward with a stuttering cry and sought support on Willem's neck, lips reaching for skin to suckle at once again.

The Dutchman let go, careful to not give Sigurd's sensitive member a premature release. He held the other by the waist with one hand and looked searingly into his boyfriend's eyes.

His other hand reached behind to restretch his own hole, and Willem grabbed Sigurd's full attention with a voice low and hungered.

" _ Knulle meg. _ "

Sigurd groaned at the sound of Willem's voice, watching as his man utterly bewitched him through the sound of his language.

" _ Knulle meg, knulle meg til det gjør vondt _ !" The Dutchman ground his hips into Sigurd's roughly with the command, fingers threading in and out of his own wet body with anticipation. "Make me *scream* your name. Make me *burn*."

Sigurd's breathing was rapid, permeated with arousal, unable to fully handle just how utterly turned on he was, hips stuttering feedback into Willem's. He was finally able to muster a response after just brief, fleeting, eye-fluttering moments.

" _ Ik zal dat en meer doen, _ ache and cry and feel good,  _ minne _ …!"

Even as those words were exclaimed from Sigurd's red lips, Willem flipped over again, leverage on the handlebar, cock hanging sprung between his dripping thighs. And now he felt the way that Sig rutted up against his backside needingly, the air suffocating and so damn hot, a pyre raging in his groin.

The Norwegian looked down at Willem's ass, breath withheld, and guided his throbbing organ into the orifice, hands on the hips before him, caressing at the folded and presented skin. His heart erupted with a symphony of adoration, if the orchestra in his aortas were to play their motifs of unwavering love and beauty.

Willem's voice fell away as his head was pressed up against the ceramic again, body brimming and churning with adrenaline, wishing,  _ yearning _ he could be made more melded with Sig, the staccato rapping of his fingernails on the wall as the Norwegian began to slowly thrust.

Now, even the shower's rain fell away to them, only them now, the million billion water molecules inside, around, outside, down becoming insignificant, unconsidered.

The Norwegian's breath exhaled shakingly as he found his way, exploring the cave of Willem's insides with (wander)lust and pumping motions, pulling the Dutchman backwards each time, trying to get deeper, deeper!

Willem groaned, then moaned, and as Sigurd finally hit that sweet spot again, then he threw his head back in a pained but  _ oh-so-good _ cry, "Oh fuck!", fingers fastened on the wall. "Fuck Sig do it again, oh!" Reddened lips and green eyes split wide open.

Sigurd was more than happy to comply, he was going to anyway, but the delicious sound of Willem breaking inspired him to thrust harder, fight the threat of fatigue. He snapped back and hit it again, a loud groan filling his mouth at the hot and tight sensation, and Willem responded with a strangled exclamation that half sounded like a howl.

" _ Ik wil je zo graag _ !!" His voice cracked again, fluttering up from baritone to tenor for only these moments together -- alongside the hiccuping of his windpipe. "Ah… a-ah…  _ neuk _ …  _ me _ ... Fuck!!" Willem cried out each time Sigurd increased the stretching sensation inside of him, each time he penetrated deep and struck at that bundle of happiness, each time he  _ reaffirmed an undying connection. _

Sigurd's breath stuttered in time with his forward rhythm, feeling how he was coming closer to orgasm, the sensation beginning to absolutely buzz his senses like a drug's high. " _ Jeg vil _ ... _ at du komme _ …. Hn!" He exhaled shakingly, hips slapping, slapping. " _ Med meg, med meg, Willem! _ ”

The Dutchman's eyebrows screwed up in an overwhelmed expression, feeling a torrent of fire in his entire being, wild and unbridled and threatening cries being squeezed out of his lungs. "Fuck!!" as a tear slipped down his cheekbone, "Fuck…  _ ik _ ….. hnnnn….  _ Ik ga _ ….."

Sigurd latched hard with his hands now, onto Willem's hips, pulling back out completely and then throwing as much weight as he could into this thrust, sending sparks and hazy clouds flying in Willem's vision, the taller feeling so wonderfully full and ready to burst physically and emotionally and mentally…

Willem felt himself beginning to leak with the intense force being pounded into him, he could feel his barriers letting loose, Sigurd's essence melting with his body.

And the Norwegian himself was so painfully, so utterly, so close on the brink, cock hot and throbbing and threatening to send right that moment, that instant, the tightness getting him to push, push, push --

"Sig, Sig, nnnn,  _ heerlijk, engel, liefheid... _ f-fuck!!!"

Willem gave out a stuttering and strangled and undeniably  _ euphoric _ cry as he bounced back and was met with a powerful snap from Sigurd's hips.

He braced his hands on the bar and looked, just for a moment, behind him, to see the utterly consumed and red face of his love, making eye contact again in such a vulnerable but soul-binding way, "S-Sigurd!! Sigurd! Oh, oh fuck!!"

The Norwegian responded with a wordless grunt and another powerful snap, watching Willem's eyes with a burning and pervasive stare.

Willem cried out his boyfriend's name loudly one last pained time, and with another thrust he was seeing flashes, hot white release spilling out onto the wet wall beneath him.

That was all Sigurd needed, only a second behind as he gave one last, whole-hearted, ram into Willem's prostate, the sensation causing him to tilt his head back, release, and cry out a long and choked vowel, the timbre resonating within the walls like a singer in a cathedral, painting tones of love and adoration.

Neither of them felt separated for a period of about five breaths taken together.

One in lust.

Two in gratitude.

Three in amazement.

Four in devotion.

All five, for love.

As soon as Sigurd pulled out, Willem leaned against the wall and achingly slid down to the floor, feeling as if all of his bones had been pushed straight out of his body. His breathing heaved wildly, the Dutchman swallowing thickly.

The Norwegian all but collapsed with a gasp down into his man's arms without a moment's notice, the two of them a hot mess on the floor of Willem's shower.

The water still cascaded over their flushed bodies mindlessly.

Sigurd was held in Willem's lap, nestling his face into the wonderful sweaty smell that his boyfriend's neck gave off, the smell of sex slowly being washed away from them.

They sat there for moments, entangled and entwined, feeling each other's warmth ebb out, their breathing rasping out and gasping for air.

Willem's hips ached numbingly, he was well aware of this as he pressed a lingering kiss to the sopping hair atop Sigurd's scalp. Fingers beginning to caress Sigurd's back.

The Norwegian was the first to speak out, voice strained and wobbly like his physique. "Six months… not bad…"

Willem chuckled at that. "Yeah, y've put up with me for that long." He wasn't expecting it, but he sneezed.

Sigurd's blue eyes looked up inquisitively, only a fraction of blind infatuation being held within them now. "'S not terrible, Will." He nuzzled back into the shoulder he was leaning on. "Jus'......happy."

The Dutchman hummed contentedly. " _ Ja _ , 's true. But, mm..."

Willem shifted slightly, and his aching, throbbing rear reminded him of its existence again. "Damn, y'went to town, huh?"

Sig sighed in agreement, feeling pleased that he elicited those kinds of sounds from Will. His finger traced the outline of his boyfriend's abdomen. "Mm, yes I did." He gave a teasing look. "You did beg me to make you scream, after all."

Willem's body rumbled softly, Sigurd's sonorous observation pulling another chuckle up out of him. "'S true too. You're an amazing top,  _ lieve _ , even if you're m'first."

That comment filled Sigurd with a happy sense of pride, pressing himself into Willem's arms.

After another moment of silence between them, Willem gently petting Sigurd's head, which was rested against the former's chest, the Norwegian spoke again.

"Willem?"

"Mm?" The taller looked down fondly, eyes half-lidded.

"Thanks for that. 'N the flowers too." Sigurd smiled slightly, eyes showing the rest of the half-hidden smile in full illumination. "Th'flowers are nice."

The Dutchman smiled in return, and held his partner close again.

"Only the best gifts for my angel."

XXX

**Author's Note:**

> Translations // I didn't insert these directly into the text to save immersion
> 
> Dutch:  
> schatje = my little treasure  
> mijn engel = my angel  
> mijn god, jij bent zo mooi = my god, you're so beautiful  
> ik zal dat en meer doen = I will do that and more  
> minne = mine, my dear  
> ik wil je zo graag = I want you so badly  
> neuk me = fuck me  
> ik ga = I'm going (to come)  
> heerlijk = (my) lovely  
> liefheid = (my) sweetness  
> lieve = dear
> 
> Norwegian:  
> (jeg) vil ha deg = (I) want you  
> kjaere = dear, my love, darling  
> alt skal bli okej = everything will be okay  
> Herregud = oh my god  
> fy faen = (god)damn  
> knulle meg til det gjør vondt = fuck me until it hurts  
> jeg vil at du komme med meg = I want you to come with me


End file.
